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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23709610">Sunday</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuhue/pseuds/bleuhue'>bleuhue</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Pyromania, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 20:40:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,553</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23709610</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuhue/pseuds/bleuhue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"All the little flaws that are following me, it's a lost cause you never really need."</p><p>Kokichi Ouma has never been one to have a heart to heart with others, nor does he want to. However, no matter how much he lies... He can't deny his deepest desires. Even if he tries his damned hardest to distract himself from the ugly truth he fears by indulging in a beautiful lie, the tapes aren't enough to soothe him. For a moment maybe, but nothing is ever simple, is it?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oma Kokichi/Saihara Shuichi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello and welcome! </p><p>This is my first Danganronpa fic, so I'm a little nervous about the characterization of these characters. </p><p>Warnings: There's a sexual innuendo, but it brief. If you are uncomfortable with that please skip starting from "What he was sure was that Iruma would be cackling..." Continue with the line "They could think about whatever they want." Disturbing imagery in regards to the VHS tape Ouma plays and the illusion he thinks of when he's about to go to bed. It's not graphic per se, but it could be disturbing. For the tape part, I would say to stop reading at "Something certainly was playing." Continue reading at "He wasn’t sure how long he stood there..." As for the illusion stop reading at "No one likes being tricked, Kokichi." Continue reading at "It wasn’t plain and simple." There's lots of self-depreciation on Ouma's part. This fic is littered with moments where he depreciates himself, so if you're not comfortable with that I would suggest clicking off this fic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Sunday, a day of rest.”</p>
</blockquote><p>He couldn’t quite understand. <em>Why Sunday?</em> <em>Couldn’t we rest any other day? Ah, but that’s too hopeful, isn’t it?</em> There were those who worked endlessly. Even on a Sunday. It didn’t matter if it was this Sunday, last Sunday, the Sunday to come, or the many Sunday’s to come. As far as he was concerned… <em>Any day could be one of rest. </em>Although, he would be lying to say he even rested on a Sunday. <em>Wow, a shocker. </em>Even as he lay on his bed facing the chipped white ceiling, he found himself reaching out. Reaching out to imperfection. Oh, how the chipped white paint reminded him of spider webs. The thought alone was enough to make him shudder. Insects were disgusting and he never ever wanted to be around them. He just couldn’t see the appeal. However, he hated to admit the chipped paint’s spider web pattern along the ceiling held a certain beauty. <em>It’s not real anyway. </em>Although, he couldn’t help thinking of a certain person.</p><p>"That good. No bad person likes bugs."</p><p>Oh, how foolish Gonta was. That person went along with his whims and apologized for leaving his side. A joke really, but… <em> Was it? </em> As much as he tried to hide it, he really did loathe being alone. Physically he wasn’t alone, surrounding himself with the others. Deep down they hated him, he didn’t need verbal confirmation. They all were trapped. Whether or not they liked it was of no concern, for he would never set them free. After all, He wormed himself into every conversation whenever he could and instigated fights. Stupid Momota getting all worked up for the same tricks time and time again. <em> Give me something new. I’m tired. </em>Routine it all was by this point and he was growing sick, but maybe he was sick from the very beginning all along. Gonta couldn’t see that. Granted, Gonta wasn’t exactly… Well, they weren’t as… Smart. Anyhow, Gonta thought he was a good person. Why? He “liked” bugs. The worst lie he’d ever told to date and he paid for it alright.</p><p>Sounds of buzzing and his screams rang in his ears. A whole night of petting bugs… <em> Never again. </em> All of which was punishment for using Gonta for his own needs. Using others was all he had ever been good at. If that was a skill that one could be proud of. <em> I’m not proud of it. </em> Having Amami keep him out of trouble, letting him go whenever he needed to make a hasty escape. It never worked out anyways because Harukawa would catch him regardless of how fast he was. What was it? <em> Up, up and away. </em> The grip around his neck burned into memory and he couldn’t count the many times she left him bruises. Not that he complained because they were deserved. Besides, it’s not like anyone else genuinely cared or would give him a pity party. Everyone knew the shit he got was all his fault. Even if he whined and exaggerated how much it hurt, no one would bat an eye.</p><p>Yes, that’s what he wanted after all. To have no strings attached. No one, not a single soul to peer into his heart and try to heal it. He didn’t want it. He didn’t <em>need</em> it. <em>Then why do I continue to crave it? </em>His hand slowly lowered to his side and he closed his eyes, letting a sigh escape his lips. The static noise emitting from his tv was the only solace he found. If he could call it that really. He didn’t mean for the static to occur, really. <em>Or is that another lie? </em>He simply put a VHS tape into the VHS player he had and wasn’t expecting to be met with a blue screen, which was shortly followed by static. He expected the sound to drive him mad, but it was soothing to him. Whatever the tape had been was unknown to him, nor did he bother to check it out. He got it at some flea market god knows where. <em>More like, Atua knows where! </em>Ah, what a terrible joke. It was so horrendous he couldn’t help scowling at himself. <em>Yuck, if only I could bleach that from memory. You know what, I’ll do that. 1, 2, 3, and GONE!</em></p><p>Smiling, he turned to face his old tv with nothing of interest playing. The only thing of interest was the sound. However, he was growing quite tired with this sound. With a grunt, he reluctantly forced himself off his worn bed. The creaking of his bed was another source of comfort. Why he found it so comforting was unknown to him. While he loved the sounds his worn bed emitted, he despised the warmth it gave him. It was suffocating, yet he found himself laying down. Time and time again he would lay down. Maybe it was to punish himself? He wasn’t sure. What he was sure was that Iruma would be cackling and call him something idiotic like a masochist. Then she would try and insinuate that was doing some vulgar things on his bed, which he will provide no answer as to whether or not certain things have been done in his bed. No one needed to know that either. They could think about whatever they want.</p><p>Dragging his feet along to the VHS player, he ejected the VHS Tape. His ears were practically singing in satisfaction from the resounding click, as he picked up another tape. Upon inspection, he noted the label on it. Yellow with age, at least what remained of it. Most of the label had been ripped off, bits of messy writing left behind. <em> Maybe I should have actually looked at the tapes before buying them. I could’ve learned what I was wasting my money on, but where’s the fun in that? </em> Laughing to himself he gave the pitiful label another glance. Trying to figure out what words had been on the label, but he could only manage a few letters. <b>He… Ate</b> . A strange set of letters that remained to form an equally strange message. <em> <strong>He ate?</strong> Well… Let’s see what you are, he ate. </em>Chucking the tape, he ejected moments before to who knows where he pushed the new tape in the player.</p><p>With a whir from the old player, he grinned ear to ear, bringing his hand to his ear. Why? To cusp the sound. He’d learned from his middle school teacher that cupping your ear made sound so much crisper. What their name was, what they looked like, who they were… He’d forgotten. However, he’d never forgotten their advice. If he could call it that. Anyhow, he watched the tv flicker to a black screen before it turned blue. He wasn’t worried though since the numbers underneath the white play text changed. Something certainly was playing. Then, the distorted sound filled the room. Horrid scratchy sounds that he was intrigued by. <em> But that’s a lie, isn’t it? </em> The screen was much more appealing for once, with distorted images and the constant glitching. He could have sworn he saw a face. Of what? <em> Who knows? </em> Then, he made out a traffic cone. Again, he wasn’t sure. It was then, a distorted scream echoed in his darkroom. <em> Or were they laughing? </em>He couldn’t figure it out, as the screen had faded to black.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, looking at the black screen. Heck, he hadn’t even realized he held the tape in his hands. When he came to, he flinched from the slight weight in hands. It was almost as if this tape put him in a trace, but… <em> That’s not a lie, isn’t it? </em>Glancing at yellow ripped remains of a label with messy black letters of what hadn’t been lost, he found himself dumbfounded.</p><p>
  <b>He… Ate.</b>
</p><p><em> You weren’t a waste after all. I think you’ve become one of my favorites! </em> Tape in hand, he made his way to his worn bed and laid down on his side. A smile plastered on his lips as he held the tape to his chest, embracing it. He was submerged in a sense of peace, blissfully ignoring the sharks that began to creep upon him. The sharks were of no importance. Just as he was of no importance. The only thing of importance was the tape within his grasp. His lifeline, his one, and only solace. <em> You’re lying again. </em></p><p>"No one likes being tricked, Kokichi."</p><p>It was then he began to tremble, eyes blown wide, the fabrication of this sweet lie broken by his own deepest desire. No longer did he have his lifeline, nor did he have anything else to defend himself with. Breaths became shallow, as he came face to face with the sharks preying on him. He couldn’t scream, for the water would flood his mouth and he would meet his demise much sooner. He couldn’t even try to swim away. Try as he may, it would result in the same way. Torn to shreds. To the point, he couldn’t even be recognized by anyone else, if there was anyone else who cared in the first place. <em> This isn’t what you want, isn’t it? </em></p><p>Warmth…</p><p>There was warmth. He couldn’t tell if he would rather be torn to shred or allow himself to cling to this warmth. The choice wasn’t made by him. Someone else had made it for him. The tips of his fingers burned, and the sensation soon traveled to his palms. The scorching flames would then make its way up to his arms. He couldn’t help himself from screaming, saltwater filling his mouth, filling his lungs. Everything ached and he wasn’t sure what to make of it anymore. Even as a shark took a rather nasty bite into his flesh. A nightmare. This was a nightmare. Plain and simple, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t plain and simple. As much as he longed for it… Nothing was truly plain and simple.</p><p>Not even those eyes that stared back at him. Oh, those eyes that he found himself staring at. Once he took a good look there was no going back. Those eyes had stolen him away. Perhaps, he should have wished for those eyes to remain hidden underneath that bill of that cap. Perhaps, he should have wished they wouldn’t try to dissect him inch by inch. That those eyes were soft and kind. Even when he did awful things… Those eyes never ceased to be on him. Sometimes they would hold anger, but then there was something else. He didn’t know what it was, but it terrified him.</p><p>“I genuinely care about your wellbeing, Ouma-kun.”</p><p><em> How can you be so cruel? How can you say that to me? </em>The gentle grip they had on his fingers, even if they were scorched never ceased to amaze him. Even if this was all a fabrication it felt real. That warmth he felt around Saihara-chan. The detective didn’t even need to touch him. Just having those eyes on him was enough to ruin him. It made him wish for things he shouldn’t have. To have someone just be there and listen to him. Not because they felt obligated to, but because they genuinely wanted to. Someone who would come to him and not the other way around. Someone who would hold him and tell him it was okay. Okay to feel like shit. Okay to feel like an absolute mess. Okay to not know how to express himself other than lies.</p><p>With Saihara Shuichi, it seemed possible. <em> No, he hates me deep down too. </em> However, when he peered into those eyes, he couldn’t find any trace of a lie. <em> What I really want is… </em> Ah, how cruel. The horrid illusion was gone just as he was about to acknowledge the ugly truth. Truths did nothing but hurt others and he couldn’t see why Saihara wanted those truths instead of a beautiful lie. Lies were not evil. Not all of them at least, but Saihara… Saihara hated lies more than anything. By that logic… <em> Wouldn’t he want nothing to do with me too? </em></p><p>Rather than indulge himself any longer with those troublesome thoughts, he held the tape closer with a sniffle. No, he wasn’t going to cry. Crying was a weakness. He was Kokichi Ouma, a bad person for not liking bugs. He was Kokichi Ouma, an instigator. He was Kokichi Ouma, who didn’t go up and away. He wasn’t Kokichi Ouma, who was beloved by the one and only person he longed for most.</p><p>Perhaps the day would never come, which wasn’t fine by him. No matter how much he lied to himself, he couldn’t deny his heart’s wish. That sweet lie he had come to despise. <em> I want so much. I want so much that I can’t have. These tapes all I can have. Just… Let me believe. Believe they’ll be just as comforting as you. </em> A lie that he was aware of could destroy him. Nevertheless…</p><p>
  <span class="u"> <b> <em>He… Ate.</em> </b> </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Catharsis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Kokichi Ouma continues his numerous rituals. Some rituals more harmful than others, but habits die hard. He's well aware of this, yet he can't find himself stopping any time soon or asking for help. He continues to hide behind his carefully crafted mask. However, it's important to note that he is human and makes mistakes. Very stupid mistakes.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello and welcome! </p><p>I've decided to continue this fic, as I've come up with more ideas regarding this fic. I'll be updating the tags as I go along in the story. Again, if there's anything that you find should be tagged and hasn't been tagged yet, feel free to tell me in the comments.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>"Emotions with unknown whereabouts make rattling sounds."</p>
</blockquote><p>Going through the motions as numb as ever, ignoring those sets of eyes that watched him. Every day he became aware of the ever-growing confusion laced within those eyes. The confusion that soon turned into indifference. Each day he would come to this shop to purchase printing paper before he started school and before he would start his day when he didn’t have school. It was a ritual of sorts. To come to this store and buy printing paper. Sometimes he didn’t even want to buy printing paper, yet he found himself already handing over money to the cashier. The same cashier stared at him, puzzled as to why someone needed so much printing paper. Their eyes were not the same as his beloved. His beloved never held an expression of indifference after many months of being exposed to his chaotic behavior. This cashier had once tried small talk, but it never went anywhere. What was there to talk about anyway? What did he use all this printing paper for? It had never occurred between him and this cashier to converse about such things. It was as if there was an unspoken rule to keep their interactions within the realm of a simple transaction.</p><p>A nod of his head was always the response to that question whenever asked. A stupid question, yet he found himself answering the question anyway. Once out of the store there was no telling of when or where, but the result was always the same for the printing paper he purchased. It would all become ash. How? By the lighter and matches in his pocket. There was another in his class with a lighter, who he had seen use it sometimes. Hoshi would take a cigarette and bring it to his lips, taking out his lighter to cast a flame. This flame would ignite his cigarette and Hoshi would take a long drag. Hoshi would then exhale a long cloud of smoke, as far as the eye could see. <em> It looks like a dragon. </em>This was a thought that Ouma couldn’t perish as he watched Hoshi from afar, going through their usual routine. It was not that he was interested in Hoshi-kun smoking because everyone already knew that, but he was interested in the flame. The process of something burning to nothing.</p><p>VHS tapes couldn’t be played at school, nor did the school provide a VHS tape player. Besides, <em> no one needs to know. </em> He couldn’t imagine how the others would react when they found out his dirty little secret. That Ouma Kokichi collected VHS tapes from flea markets to play them back at his dorm. That these tapes were mostly damaged beyond repair and that he had an abundance of them. Perhaps they would tease him for being a hoarder of sorts, which he would then come up with a retort about Miu’s extensive porn search history. (He didn’t know what she searched and would never ever even try to ponder about it. A forbidden topic for sure). It was a distraction, but he knew. Knew that a certain someone would figure it out. That these tapes reflected himself. Saihara Shuichi definitely didn’t need to know. That was the last person he ever wanted to find out about his VHS tape habits. <em> The only way they’d know is to break into my room. I never want that to happen. Not that it ever will. No one ever wants to hang out there, which is fine. </em> <strike><em> That’s a lie, isn’t it?</em></strike></p><p>That being his need to light things on fire. He just couldn’t explain exactly why he loved burning things. <em> But that’s a lie! </em>In truth, he burned to gain a sense of control. While the tapes were life jackets whenever he was adrift in the seas of his mind, the flames destroyed what ailed him. The flames would keep the sharks at bay if he had control of them. Shuichi Saihara’s flames had turned his fingertips to ash a few nights before. When he had woken up that day… With the tape <span class="u">He ate</span> in his grasp, he stared at his hands and arms. They were not burned. His fingertips were not ash. He was still in one piece, but why did he continue to ache? He understood it was a dream, no, a nightmare. Nightmares were not real, yet they continued to hurt. Maybe it was because nightmares were his inner subconscious screaming at him to stop running. Running away from what he truly desired, but he was terrified. Terrified of opening his heart to someone he cared about, only for them to trample it.</p><p>However, he continued to trample the hearts of others. Gonta, Miu, Yumeno, Kaede, Amami, and even Saihara. It’s not that he wanted to purposely heart them, but hurtful words would escape his lips before he even had time to register them. Automatic it was, to say awful things. Everyone was forced to deal with it. Every day he could swear they had a collective thought of “what shit will Ouma pull today?” At first, he didn’t have anything planned. His mouth would run on and run, making enemies rather than friends. Eventually, he would plan pranks and be a general nuisance. His favorite target would be none other than Momota, but that was because the sucker would easily get frustrated and lash out. <strike><em> You’re lying again. </em></strike> <em> You know what you wanted from him. </em> What did he want from Momota? <strike><em> Punishment. </em></strike>He froze, the pen in his hand ceased doodling a cat during their usual lessons. Punishment…</p><p>It came swiftly when Momota had punched him square across the face. He couldn’t remember what he said or what the argument was about, but he recalled not being able to register the pain. If anything, he remembered shock. The pain followed afterward, but he clung to shock rather than pain. That was yesterday though when Momota had punched him. <em> I bet he had a celebration party with the others to get a good one on me. Piece of shit. </em> Today, when he had entered class, he puffed out his chest with false bravado and ignored everyone’s prying eyes. Miu, of course, had to ruin the moment by cackling at him, pointing out the obvious swell and bruised area of his cheek. <em> Thanks a lot. </em>It was then he saw Amami looking at him with disappointment, which led him to start an argument with Miu. Anything to distract himself from Amami’s gaze.</p><p>Their Class soon started and everyone went to their seats. He wasn’t sure if Atua or whatever supreme being out there blessed or cursed him by having Shuichi Saihara’s seat be next to him. While he had remained frozen recalling the events that transpired the day before, he failed to realize that he had been touching his damaged cheek. He was pulled out of frozen time when he felt something warm touch his arm, which led him to flinch. His flinch led to the sudden source of warm leaving as quickly as it came. Touching had never been something he was used to. It was okay when he clung to others, but if others touched him? No thanks. He needed mental time to prepare for it. Even if it was as simple as giving him a nudge. This sudden touch was enough to make him appear as a deer in headlights. When he turned to face the source of this touch, he gave them the biggest smile he could muster. As if he never flinched and wasn’t terrified beyond his mind from Shuichi Saihara touching his arm.</p><p>What he was not prepared for was concern from none other than Saihara. <em> Stop. Don’t look at me that way. </em>Those were words he couldn’t say, for he felt Harukawa’s hands constricting his throat. Of course, that was merely an illusion. A lie.</p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p><strike><em>No, I’m not.</em></strike> “Aww, is Saihara-chan worried about Lil Ol’ me? What a cutie, of course, I’m alright.” The smile plastered on his face grew, but sadly he could only wish that it was true. Wish that it was true so Saihara wouldn’t continue to look at him with a frown, knowing that he told such an ugly lie. Thankfully, luck was on his side for once. Their teacher glared at them, a silent warning for them to shut up. Saihara’s mouth was now sealed shut, preventing them from asking him anything else. The two would just continue class in silence. Saihara taking notes religiously, while he continued to doodle nonsense. Whether it be of animals or objects. Their Class eventually came to an end and he quickly left before Saihara had a chance to say anything. Not like his beloved could with Momota, Harukawa, and Kaede immediately conversing with his beloved after class had ended. They were done for the day in terms of classes, but he had a date with a special something.</p>
<hr/><p>Marching off to some secluded area of the school, he pulled out the printing paper package from his backpack. Without wasting any time, he ripped the pack and took a generous number of sheets from it. Maybe five or six, nothing too crazy. As much as he loved setting things on fire, he didn’t want things to go too out of hand. He just loved seeing the process of something burning; that was all. Just watching something go up in flames and transform into something else was amazing. It calmed him down. Especially when he touched the paper ash and let the wind carry those ashes off somewhere, away from his grasp. Ashen birds taking a flight to new sights, a journey he could only dream of. <strike><em> But you’re afraid of that too. </em></strike> Ah, his greatest enemy was back at it again. “Shut up,” he mumbled to the voice as he pulled out a match. Placing the sheets of paper down and using a rock to hold it in place, he struck the match. Wonderstruck he was time and time again seeing the match ablaze. He brought his fingers to the flame, retracting them when he felt the flames kiss the tips of his fingers. Automatic reaction. His body wouldn’t allow him to touch the flames he desired without fighting it, but that fact reassured him. That his body would prevent him and bring him back from whatever stupidity he was going to do.</p><p>“Thanks,” he mumbled yet again to his inner voice. There was no response, which he paid no mind to. He would only pay mind to the flames that engulfed the paper and match that he threw into the pile. Little by little, he would add new sheets of paper whenever the flames would start to diminish. A genuine smile would make its way to his lips, as he watched the papers burn. When the final sheet burned, a pit in his stomach began to form. Oh, how he wished it would last forever. These scarce tender moments where he could finally just be. Where he didn’t have to think about all the little things that bothered him to no end. It was here where he could just focus on the flames and its gentle caress as it transformed numerous sheets into birds of ash. Where he would see those birds take flight with the wind as their guide.</p><p>When the birds of ash all soared, he left with the plastic package in hand, dumping it in a nearby trash can. He returned to his dorm, thinking of those birds all the while. Kicking off his shoes to some random corner of his room. It didn’t really matter in the end, since his dorm was a complete and utter mess. He never bothered to clean up. Never thought about it either. It’s not like he let anyone else visit his dorm. He would rather die than have anyone snoop around his stuff.  Besides, he really didn’t feel like explaining the cut out of Amami. Anyhow, he rummaged through one of the many cardboard boxes that were filled with tapes. While he did enjoy the tape <span class="u">He ate</span>, he wasn’t exactly in the mood for listening to that one again. <em>I don’t need another nightmare right now.</em> Pulling out one of the dozens of tapes, you would think he was a hoarder or something. Heck, he wouldn’t deny it. At least, internally. The tape he pulled out was actually one from long ago. He couldn’t remember when he bought it. All he knew was that it was in his possession and that’s all that really mattered in the end. Turning on the VHS tape player, the whir of the machine instantly calmed him. Without a moment to waste, he pushed the tape in. The click that followed brought a small smile to his face. With a couple of clicks of a remote, he was able to view whatever the tape had in store. While this was not one of his favorites, it was rather nice to listen to the old stuff. The tape itself was in much better condition than the others he had previously played.</p><p>The contents of the tape were quite hypnotic, but it could also be a bit disturbing. Disturbing in the sense that it was a song and within the song, there was someone whispering certain phrases. A word and two sentences. Only the last sentence mattered to him from the woman whispering in between her male companions’ song. <span class="u"> <em> “The one disappearing should be me.” </em> </span> He didn’t exactly understand the reasoning behind this song, but it was just one of those songs that he resonated with. It was a little concerning, maybe. (Definitely, actually). However, he never did stop to think that these songs were influencing him in any capacity. Then again, most of the tapes in his possession were strange. Most tapes were random clips mashed together that had no real meaning. There were only a select few that were songs or shows. That was only when he got really lucky during his flea market run, but that didn’t mean he actually bothered to find out if shows or song tapes had more than one part. If he eventually found it by pure chance he wouldn’t mind. Hell if he knew this song had a sequel or something. He just knew it was a pretty good song to listen to, and it was a bit mournful. Considering what the man was singing. </p><p>
  <span class="u"> <em> “That’s why I must go. There are anemone flowers to pick up. That’s why I must go. There are anemone flowers to be held.” </em> </span>
</p><p>Anemone flowers… He once tried his hand at taking care of it, but it didn’t pan out well. In the end, it died and he found himself frustrated. Then again, maybe he should have read on the internet how to take care of anemone flowers. He didn’t provide the sunlight it needed or the correct amount of water for the poor thing. Don’t ask him about either, thank you. (He kept it in the dark&amp;nbsp, and practically drowned the poor flower with the insane amount of water he gave it).   The decision was rather impulsive. He really only tried his hand at taking care of it because of the song. The song constantly brought up anemone flowers in such a melancholy fashion, which intrigued him. This interest caused him to march himself to some flower shop and purchase anemone flowers. It was also because of the song he found himself looking at the meaning of the flower. Apparently the flower had a variety of meanings and each color had a different meaning. It also was of great interest to note the different meanings of the flower between East and West.</p><p>The West saw the flower as protection, while the East saw the flower as bad luck. He recalled laughing when he came across the word bad luck. “Guess it’s true, or else you wouldn’t be dead,” he had chuckled that night. It was a horrible joke, but it was just a way to make him forget. Forget that he absolutely sucked at taking care of it and it died as a result of his stupidity. Anyhow, he also found the meaning behind blue anemone flowers. Don’t ask him why he chose blue. (They reminded him of a detective). The color blue symbolizes trust, authority, and intelligence. Reading such a thing brought a pleasant surprise. Who would have thought that the color truly did match his beloved? Someone who valued the truth above all, and as a result had the trust of everyone in their class. Although… Authority? It made him laugh too. Saihara wasn’t exactly one who showed authority. The detective was actually rather timid most of the time and allowed Momota to lead the way. A fatal mistake, if you asked him. However, he couldn’t deny that Saihara could show authority. In those rare moments, he found himself swooning at the detective. Ah, if only they stopped holding back because of the others.</p><p>It was then, that he read that the blue anemone represented anticipation and excitement as well. That alone sent him spiraling, even now. As much as he wanted to deny it, Saihara was exciting to be around. Every time he bothered the poor detective he never grew tired of their reactions. Maybe it was because the detective didn’t push him away like the others or actively insult him. Even if he was being especially obnoxious. As for anticipation? Well… Saihara had to expect him to be a general nuisance, which led them to try and predict what he would do next. Try being the keyword here, because Saihara couldn’t predict what he was going to do. It was a nice attempt from the detective, which meant the world to him. No one else tried as hard as the detective to at least understand him a little bit.</p><p>With the song nearing its end, he continued to ponder about that anemone flower he tried his hand at raising. In the end, he was unable to prove anything. <em> In the end, I can’t provide anything either to him. </em> The thought brought a frown, as he got up and rummaged for pajamas and towel in one of the many boxes littered about in his room. The VHS tape’s contents had come to an end and silence filled the room once again. He made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower, tossing his clothes and towel on the nearby sink. He didn’t even want to look at his face to see the damage Momota had left it in. He could feel it and that was enough. Bringing his hand to the water, he deemed it warm enough to step in. </p><p>Let it be known that Ouma Kokichi was an absolute moron. At least, at this very moment. Why? He was having dumbass hours clearly, considering he managed to get soap in his eyes. Nearing the end of his shower too. It wasn’t fun to be rinsing his eyes and trying to ignore the pain as he did so, for <strike>lord</strike> Atua knows when.</p>
<hr/><p><b>Tako: </b>Bro you up?</p><p>Currently, an Ouma Kokichi was laying down on his bed with red eyes. Currently, this Ouma Kokichi was also texting a friend rather late at night. Yes, he had friends. At the very least, someone close to him. Someone he could go to whenever he did ridiculous stuff like this. However, he should have really let his hopes down that they would respond. They were probably asleep by this point. With a heavy sigh, he sent another text.</p><p><b>Tako: </b>Guess not.</p><p>
  <em> Avocado is typing… </em>
</p><p><b>Avocado: </b>It’s only been a minute since you sent that text.</p><p><b>Tako:</b> Do my eyes deceive me? I sent the first text at 10:30. When did you send me a response?</p><p><b>Avocado:</b> OK, may</p><p><b>Tako: </b>10:35</p><p><b>Avocado: </b>I wasn’t done. Besides, it was only five minutes.</p><p><b>Tako: </b>5 mins too late!</p><p><b>Avocado: </b>Touché. Anyways, what did you wanna talk about?</p><p><b>Tako:</b> Hmm? What makes you think I wanna talk to about something? Or maybe my dear Amami-chan wants to talk about something? Can’t say I’m surprised, I’m amazing after all.</p><p><b>Avocado:</b> Well… Guess I would like to talk about tomorrow’s test unless you have something to say~</p><p><b>Tako: </b>A W F U L.</p><p><b>Tako:</b> HOW COULD YOU.</p><p><b>Avocado:</b> how could you try to change the subject.</p><p><b>Tako:</b> …Touché.</p><p><b>Tako: </b>Ugh fineeeeeeeeeeeeee. Amami-chan is a meanie.</p><p><b>Avocado: </b>A meanie you text late at night.</p><p><b>Tako: </b>Oh? Finally, admitting you’re my secret lover? Whisk me away my sweet Amami-chan.</p><p><b>Avocado: </b>Definitely. I’ll whisk you away to the classroom, where we’ll take our test.</p><p><b>Tako: </b>I HATE YOU!</p><p><b>Avocado: </b>I Hate you too &lt;3</p><p><b>Tako: </b>TAKE THAT &lt;3 AWAY</p><p><b>Avocado: </b>♥</p><p>Even with stinging eyes, Amami was able to cheer him up. <em> Damn seaweed head. </em> Still, he knew that Amami would be concerned when he would tell them that he had royally fucked up doing something so simple. Then again, Amami was the person he trusted the most within this class. Shuichi Saihara? Yeah no, that guy would dissect him in an instant. He wouldn’t want to risk texting Saihara. The detective could cut him with a knife to force him to admit he got soap in his eyes. First of all, he didn’t exactly text Saihara privately. He only texted the detective in the group chat, but the detective scarcely responded outside of announcements regarding school. <em> Lame. </em>Other than that, the detective would respond to Harukawa, Momota (an idiot), and Kaede. It made sense. Saihara practically had a leash around his neck, which was held by either Kaede or Momota. Mostly Momota, which was a disgrace honestly.</p><p>The buzz from his phone and a ping snapped him out of his thoughts.</p><p><b>Avocado: </b>Seriously Ko, what’s up?</p><p><b>Tako: </b>Don’t tell anyone or else my secret organization will slit your throat, okay?</p><p><b>Avocado: </b>Wasn’t planning to, so shoot Ko.</p><p><b>Tako: </b>I fucked up and got soap in my eyes.</p><p>
  <em> Avocado is typing… </em>
</p><p><b>Tako: </b>U FUCK I KNOW U’RE LAUGHING.</p><p>
  <em> Avocado is typing… </em>
</p><p><b>Tako: </b>FUCK YOU AMAMI-CHAN. I’M GETTING A DIVORCE!</p><p><b>Avocado: </b>Listen. I just want to let you know, before we finalize our divorce…</p><p><b>Tako: </b>Wut</p><p><b>Avocado: </b>You getting soap in your eyes is the funniest shit ever.</p><p><b>Tako: </b>This conversation is over.</p><p><b>Tako: </b>We are over.</p><p><b>Tako: </b>Don’t talk to me in this life.</p><p><b>Tako:</b> Don’t even talk to me in the next life either.</p><p>
  <em> Avocado is typing… </em>
</p><p>Yes, he was being dramatic. Amami knew that, considering seaweed head put up with his shenanigans time and time again. Hell, he was ignoring the constant buzzing and pings from his phone. Amami was quite literally blowing up his phone with texts. What was Ouma doing? Ignoring every single one of them. However, when his phone rang, he couldn’t help smiling as he picked it up. Did you think he was going to answer with a hello? Wrong, he was a petty asshole when he wanted to be. This was a standstill between them. None of them said a word. He wasn’t even sure how long they remained silent, maybe five minutes or so. Who knows and who cares? It was only when he heard a sigh that he knew he claimed victory.</p><p>“You washed the soap out, right?” This was another ritual between them. Whenever they had their fun bickering privately, they would call each other shortly afterwards to speak privately about more serious things. Serious things being Amami calling him to make sure he was alright. It's always nice to talk to Amami. Even though he joked about Amami being such a mother hen, he was truly grateful for them. Amami would let him have his own space and call him out when needed. Amami was real and he respected that. He gave them so much trouble with his antics, but they still called him to ask how he was really doing. Sure, he lied to Amami most of the time, but that was to be expected. He could tell that they had an inkling of when to back down. It was frustrating and a relief at the same time.</p><p>It was his turn to laugh, “Yeah, I washed it out. Still stings a little. Maybe. When’s the test again?” Trying to change the subject again, huh? <em> Old habits die hard. </em>The question itself wasn’t out of range to ask, but both he and Amami knew he already knew the answer to that. It was just said as a distraction and nothing more. Amami would understand and play along with it. That’s how it was between them and it worked out nicely between them.</p><p>Amami sighed, “They’re going to expel you if you keep skipping classes, you know this, right? Just show up okay, I’ll buy you Panta.” If anything made Ouma Kokichi crack it would be Panta. Panta was the best beverage anyone had created and he would write a whole speech dedicated to it. Even if everyone groaned he would give absolutely zero fucks and continue with his speech. Panta made school bearable. It was an addiction at this point, but there were worse addictions out there. That’s why he didn’t stop or plan on stopping drinking his all-time favorite unhealthy drink. Amami promising to buy him Panta was the icing on the cake. He just had to get through dreadful classes and their test. Even though he was well aware that he was close to being expelled, he was also well aware that he would have been long gone if it weren’t for Amami. The guy didn’t need to look out for him and bribe him to come to class, but they did. For that, he was grateful.</p><p>Smile on his lips from the thought, he let out a whine, “…Fineeee but make it a dozen!” <em> Come on, Amami-chan! You really thought one Lil’ Panta was enough for big Ol’ me? </em></p><p>Not missing a beat, Amami responded, “It’s going to rot your teeth Ko. I’ll buy you four.” <em> Damn, he’s good. </em>This was something he hated. He hated how Amami brought up how bad it was for him to consume the amount of Panta he does in a day. It’s not like he wasn’t aware of it, but he just couldn’t stop. Thankfully Amami only knew about his Panta addiction and not his pyromania. If Amami caught wind of his pyromania he would have to kiss his matches and lighter goodbye. If not, then Amami would be with him whenever he burned printing paper after school. As much as he liked Amami, he didn’t want anyone else around during his private time. It was called private time for a reason.</p><p>There had been a moment of silence between them, before he hummed, “Hmmm… What about six? Six or nothing, take it or leave it.” The amount wasn’t as much as he liked, but it was significantly better than having a dozen. Even Amami knew that. The number was still unhealthy, but six was better than twelve.</p><p>Another sigh from dearest Amami-chan, “Alright six. ONLY if you show up and attend all the classes.”</p><p>This was practically a victory in his books. (Not really). He couldn’t help himself from laughing, “LAMEEEE BUT DEAL! Talk to ya later Avocado!” Ah yes, talking to Mr. Avocado tomorrow about how the unfair deal between them. He was going to whine all day about it, but he would still go to all the classes and take the damned test as promised in order to get a glorious Panta. Knowing Amami, they weren’t going to give to him all at once. Sadly.</p><p>It was Amami’s turn to laugh, “See ya, Tako.” With that, there was a familiar click to signal the call had ended. He shortly fell asleep, dreaming of a promise.</p>
<hr/><p>Here he was again,  at this shop, but it would be much different from other days. Well… Not really, given the fact that once and awhile the cashier would allow him to come in early and buy printing paper. It was also when the cashier would be by the printing paper, handing it to him when he approached the stationary aisle. The action itself was odd at first, but it was something he had grown accustomed to. Their conversations weren’t much different from any other day. However, it was the first time he came to this place with a different goal in mind. When the cashier offered the usual printing paper, he didn’t take it. Shaking his head, he answered, “Not today.” The surprise from the cashier didn’t go unnoticed, nor did their smile go unnoticed. <em> Huh, so I guess you can smile. </em> Still, the world would progress with or without him. The cashier had put back the printing paper in its rightful place and with their smile ever plastered on their face asked gleefully, “Then what would you like?” A twinge of irritation spiked within him when the cashier had asked him what he wanted. <em> Why do you care? </em>However, he didn’t feel like snapping at them. Hell, they let him in earlier than they were supposed to. The cashier didn’t do anything wrong. </p><p>Glancing around with a hum, he pretended to browse around to ignore his feelings and the cashier’s glee. Sad to say that what he was getting wasn’t much different from the usual. Maybe he was just doing this to rattle the cashier’s bones by pretending to get something completely different. <em> But that’s a lie! </em> Whatever the case, he took his place in front of the cashier awaiting his answer. Truthfully he could have gotten the thing himself and walk alongside the cashier to check out, but that was just awkward leaving someone hanging like that. Looking at their face, there was curiosity behind those eyes. <strike><em> It’s not the same.</em></strike> Ah, that was such a bitter thought. He shouldn’t be thinking of that person during his morning ritual. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, he answered, “Red.” What followed after was a pregnant pause between them.</p><p>
  <em> 1, 2, 3… </em>
</p><p>The cashier was dumbfounded before they chuckled, “Red?” He didn’t answer, nor did he feel inclined to. His silence spoke volumes, as the cashier picked up a package of red printing paper and began making their way to check out. He followed them in silence and went through the motions of paying and stuffing the package in his backpack. Nothing more needed to be said between them. Leaving… Leaving he was rather disappointed. Was he shocked that the cashier assumed he wanted red printing paper? No. <em> It’s not like I don’t buy it every day. </em> An easy guess, or how his beloved Saihara-chan would say, “an easy deduction.”  Damn detective. With his long eyelashes, pretty eyes, and… He shook his head, he shouldn’t indulge in those thoughts. It could never be. As much as he longed for it, it would end up in flames. He didn’t exactly have great qualities and he was sure that he wasn’t the one for Saihara-chan. He would never forgive himself if he ruined his beloved future with his fucked up self. Besides, he wasn’t even sure that Saihara-chan shared the same feelings. <em> Definitely not. </em></p><p>With a sigh he continued his way to school, dreading classes. However, he promised Amami that he would come to school. Even though his eyes were still rather fucked from his mistake last night. Rather than have his classmates laugh at him, he brought shades for the special occasion. He may look stupid for wearing shades the entire day, but he’ll come up with a lie. He would rather die than let them see his eyes. Hell, he’d be happy if they continued to stare at his bruised cheek. <em> Thanks again Momota. </em> That sucker was going to take a few days to completely go away, so his classmates were probably milking evidence of him getting punched for as long as they could. The event certainly was down in history by this point. Still, he couldn’t help himself from thinking about the printing paper in his backpack and his beloved detective.</p><p>
  <em> He would have noticed the color I chose matched my eyes today. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The song referenced within the fic is called Walking by River. The link to the song is below:<br/>https://youtu.be/zh1SHMtt_Zk<br/>The quote at the start of the fic is actually a lyric from a song called Undead Enemy by Giga and Suzumu. The link to the song is below as well:<br/>https://youtu.be/zh1SHMtt_Zk</p><p>Other than that, thank you for those who have left kudos and bookmarked this story. It means a lot to me and I hope I can finish this fic as best as I can.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading this work or at least taking a look at it. Tagging is not my forte and I honestly had a little trouble trying to figure out what I should tag, so if there is anything you think should be included in the tags (ex: trigger warnings) please tell me. </p><p>I don't have beta reader either, so if there's any grammatical mistakes or misspelled words I apologize. Feel free to point those out to me as well and I'll try to edit the story to fix those mistakes.</p><p>Other than that, I may or may not add on to this story in the future. I'm not really sure, but I think it is fine as a one-shot. The quote from the summary comes from a music video called "is it true" by mobblele. The link to said be found here: https://youtu.be/evKIXbmIOG4</p><p>Again, thank you for reading this story and I hope you all stay safe!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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